Friday's Choice
by Channel D
Summary: Friday is date night! Tim, Tony, and Abby have been looking forward to this night, each with a date of a type like themself. Will things go smoothly? Written for the NFA The Playboy, the Goth and the Geek competition. 3 chapters in all.
1. Types

**Friday****'s Choice  
**By Channel D

Written for the NFA _The Playboy, the Goth and the Geek_ Challenge  
_Rating:_ T  
_Genre:_ Drama/Humor  
_Setting:_ Washington DC, December 2007

- - - - -

**Chapter One: Types**

**- - - - -**

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing of NCIS. Nothing at all!

- - - - -

_Earlier in the week…_

_Scenario__ 1_: Do you want to go out Friday night? You and me, babe?

_Scenario__ 2_: I know you're only in town for a week, and, uh, you probably have plans for Saturday, but, uh, I was thinking, uh, if you weren't doing anything Friday, maybe you and I could…

_Scenario__ 3_: Yep. Cool…So cool…Awesome…So, like Friday?...Rockin'. See ya.

- - - - -

If you're unattached, a date for Friday night can be one of the choicest rewards for surviving a week at work. _Unwind! Throw your cares away! __Go wild_—you don't have to be back at the job, respectable and neatly dressed, for Two. Whole. Days. Might as well be talking about _next year._

Now, as our story begins, this particular Friday in early December in Washington would have been an ideal date night, steeped in the holiday gaiety, were it not for the weather. There was cold. And snow, enough to snarl the city (it only takes half an inch), despite the District Department of Transportation's eternal snow readiness plan.. And a thin coat of ice. Suddenly Friday night at home, curled up to the DVD player, sounded much more appealing.

Unless you were used to working in bad weather, and saw this Friday night as no different than any other...

- - - - -

_Scenario__ 1_: "No, listen, Madison, everything's going to be fine. Just fine." Tony swiveled in his desk chair, cell phone still held to his ear, to look out the window. Chubby white flakes of snow were an invasion force from the heavens, mounting attack as they had been doing since mid-morning, and it was now1 o'clock.. "There can't be more than an inch out there, and you know what? Ol' Tony's betting that the snow will end _any minute now_…no, I'm not a meteorologist, but I've lived here a number of years, and...I don't care _what_ the TV says. This is _not_ going to be a big storm. No, really!...Have I ever steered you wrong?... Okay, scratch that, and stop laughing while you're at it." He frowned at the phone.

_Scenario__ 2_: Across the aisle, Tim was on his own cell phone, fingering his tie nervously as he talked."Ivy, really, December snows never stick here. This isn't like Boston…no, I don't have a degree in atmospheric sciences, but...so, we're still on for tonight?"

"We're still on for tonight?" Tony asked his date, and his voice changed to a purr. "Good, because let me tell you what I have in mind. After we're back from the clubs, I have a plan that involves you and me and a large…" He looked up; saw Gibbs heading into the squad room.

So did Tim. "I've gotta go," Tim and Tony said simultaneously; hanging up their phones.

Gibbs glared at both of them. "More personal calls on government time?"

"Uh, that was a, a, woman who wanted the phone number for the IRS," Tony lied.

"Uh, mine was a, uh…" Tim flipped his hands helplessly; he wasn't a liar by nature or design, but every so often he tried to save himself by sidestepping the whole truth. It almost never worked.

Gibbs sighed, "Don't think you're getting out early because of the snow, if you have any plans for the evening. We have a full day's work ahead of us."

"So says the man who lives within sight of the Capitol building," Tony muttered.

"What was that, Di Nozzo?"

"Uh, I just said it must be lovely to be inside the Capitol building. In all this snow."

Gibbs gave him a look reserved for observed moments of pure idiocy, and headed for the elevator.

- - - - -

_Scenario__ 3_: "No, Coleman; the weather doesn't bother me at all. Does it you?" Abby looked up to see out the windows from her below-street-level lab. People walked by along Sicard Street in boots, kicking up slushy snow as they went. She smiled, feeling she could almost hear his smile over the phone. "Good. Well, you're very brave to come in all the way from Virginia in this. So we're still on for tonight!" She heard the ping of the elevator. "I've gotta go," she said, and hung up hurriedly. "Gibbs! Did you bring me a Caf-Pow!?"

He eyed the phone in her hand. "Oh, not you, too."

She tried to look innocent. He wasn't convinced. "Need those test results before you leave tonight, Abbs. You'd better get on it."

"Yes, _Jefe_," she stifled a sigh, and thought longingly of her new outfit, hanging in her locker. _Coleman will__ love it…__if I get away in time,,,_

- - - - -

"You have a date tonight," Ziva remarked to Tony. "With a woman named Milwaukee?"

Tony winced, as Tim grinned. "Madison. Her name is Madison."

"Why are you dating women named after cities in Wisconsin?" she asked, puzzled.

"I don't—"

"They're not all named after cities in Wisconsin," Tim jumped in. "There was that bar maid, Savannah; the animal control officer, Dallas; and, uh…

"I remember East St Louis," said Ziva. "That's an unusual first name."

"That wasn't her name," Tony growled. "It was her _title_. Miss East St. Louis. She won a beauty pageant. And what about you, McGeek? Your girlfriend's name is Ivy League?"

Tim blushed. "It's Ivy Lange, and she's not my girlfriend. She's a friend; we were at MIT together. She's in town for a symposium and suggested we get together."

"And just what do geeks do when they get together? Recite the works of Immanuel Kant?"

Again Tim blushed. "Harvard geeks, maybe. MIT geeks, well…"

"Discuss male and female power connectors?" Ziva smirked.

Tim looked like he would fall over, but then broke out in a big laugh. "Not until after dinner and drinks," he finally said.

"If you're lucky, McGeek. If you're lucky," Tony said cooly. The two men stared each other down. It had crossed the line from individual plans for a fun evening out to a battle of types.

"At least my date has brains," Tim snapped. He held up his hands. "Nope, before you say it, no, I've never met your date, Sheboygan—"

" '_Madison_!' "

"Right. I'll remember to shout it like you're doing. An unusual effect."

"Listen, McGeek—"

"No, _you_ listen, Tony! I don't want you putting down my date because she's smart. She also happens to be cute and funny."

"Oh, yeah? So what does she see in you?"

Tim ignored that. "She is worth dating. Unlike yours, who's probably hoping to be a bunny to your playboy persona."

For a moment Tony mentally gaped, stuck for a good come back. Part of what Tim said was true, he knew. Tony was dating for type. Then again, so was Tim. Why didn't _he_ look for something other than brains first, if he wasn't stereotyping? "We'd better get back to work," he finally mumbled. "Here comes Gibbs."

- - - - -

Four-thirty didn't come soon enough. The snow had trailed off to flurries, but the temperatures had dropped and the slush had frozen. Workers who hadn't heeded the District's suggestion to leave work early jammed the subways and the slip-sliding buses, while car wheels spun, spun, and spun on under-treated and untreated roads. Just another winter day in an area that didn't see much of classic winter.

Tony and Tim had avoided each other, seeking out separate men's rooms in which to tidy up, don fresh shirts and tie that necktie. But Fate brought them to the building entrance at the same time, where Abby, also changed, was waiting inside the door.

"Whoa! You look…very very nice, Abbs!" Tony remarked, while Tim 'said' the same thing with his eyes.

She smiled and preened. "Oh, this old thing? Why, I hardly thought about it." She wore a short, sleek black skirt with a lacy bustier, with dozens of tiny skulls swinging on chains of black bones, with knee-high boots."

"You have a date?" Tim said, half in wonder, half in regret.

"'Course. It's Friday, isn't it? You guys have a date?" She then snickered, realizing how that sounded.

"Well, not with _him_," Tony said, jerking a thumb at Tim. "I'm not intellectual enough for him."

_"Tony!"_ Tim complained.

"Maybe you didn't ask him nicely enough," Abby said innocently. "Did you think of that?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "I already have a date. Her name is Ivy, and she's sweet, fun, and pretty. And smart, yes."

"Oh?" said Abby.

"Yes. We went out a couple of times when we were at MIT. She's visiting DC and may relocate here. It'd be great if she did!"

"Oh," said Abby, with a little less spirit.

"And Tony's dating some bunny named Kenosha."

"Well, that's a nice name. Sounds like a city in—"

"Her name is _Madison_," Tony said through clenched teeth. "And she's no lightweight in the brains department. She went to Yale." As a girl who popped out of a cake in frat house parties, he didn't add.

"Oh. Well, good for her," said Tim, knowing the story didn't add up. "See you guys."

"You're walking, Tim?" asked Abby.

"How else will I get to the Metro? I'm leaving my car here until tomorrow. Only an idiot would risk their car on these roads tonight."

Tony softly let go of the car keys he'd just fingered in his pocket. "Uh, you got that right. Guess I'll call for a cab."

"Good luck on getting one," Tim laughed shortly. "On a Friday, at this time, in this weather?"

Simultaneously, Tony and Tim turned eyes on Abby. "Abby, what are you doing, hanging around the entrance?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all!" she said. "You'd better get going. It's a long walk to the Metro."

"You've got a cab coming, don't you?" said Tim.

"I made a reservation at 9 a.m. and you guys are _not_ taking my cab from me!"

"Who said anything about taking it? I just want to share it with you," said Tony. "Probie can walk."

"And on that note, I'm outta here," Tim snapped, putting on earmuffs and stalking out. _At least I don't have to see either of them for two whole days…_


	2. Dates

**Chapter Two:**** Dates**

- - - - -

The Navy Yard took care of its own, so its roads and sidewalks were in reasonably good shape with the local equipment manned by E-1s after the snowfall. M Street was another matter, as Tim found once he left the Yard. Although a major street, M Street wore an outer garment of slush and ice, and cars moved along it slowly. The sidewalks were untreated, and Tim struggled to keep his balance on the icy clumps.

He did fall, once, hard. Even though he fought against it, gravity won out and his right arm, which he threw out to cushion his head in the fall, took a serious knock. Although the saving motion didn't jar his head too much, he still saw stars as pain did a hula dance around and between his eyes. Gingerly, he got to his feet. His arm hurt like hell. He thought of going home, but he really, really, wanted to see Ivy; after Tony's gibes, more than ever. Monday he would show Tony online pictures of Ivy (something he should have done today, had he thought of it), and that would stop the digs. Maybe.

"Tim! _Tim!"_

Abby?? Yes, there she was, in the cab that had pulled up to the curb, across the street, window rolled down.

"Tim! Come on, we'll give you a lift!"

He considered it, then dismissed it. "Thanks, but it's only a couple blocks more to the Metro stop."

"Don't be an idiot!" she called. "The radio says all the stations are packed. You'll be there for _hours_!"

Again he considered. "Well, okay," he called. "Thanks." He started crossing the street, and although he did it at the crosswalk, an oncoming car couldn't manage its brakes in the slush and missed him by an inch.

"Lordy, McGee!" said Tony, as Tim stumbled into the front seat beside the driver. "You were almost geekkill there. Don't you people have _any_ life skills at all?!"

"No, Tony; we're too busy designing equipment that save the lives of you party animals when you've invariably gotten yourselves in trouble!"

"Boys, boys," Abby sighed, putting a hand to her head.

Tim settled back in the seat, feeling his arm ache. "Tell us about your date, Abby. Anyone we know?"

"Nope. I just met him last week. His name is Coleman. He's into alternative things, like I am."

"He's a goth?" asked Tony, sensing the truth.

"A very handsome one," said Abby. "He's a musical instrument maker, by profession."

"Oh, like guitars and mandolins?" asked Tim. "That sounds nice." He admired people who could work with their hands, since he had no talent there.

"No, Theremins and other electronica. He's making me a Theremin. I can't wait!"

Tony recognized the name of the instrument that generated eerie music. "You're going to put it in your lab."

"Of course! Where else? It'll be so much fun!"

Wincing, now from something other than the pain in his arm, Tim said, "Is 'Coleman' his first name or his last name?"

Abby thought. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Only if we have to BOLO him," said Tony, followed by "Ow!" when Abby socked his arm.

"Du Pont Circle," said Abby. "That's as far as I'm going; that's where you two get out."

_"Me?!"_ Tim squawked. "What'd _I_ do?!"

"I don't know, yet. I'll figure it out," she said, sourly. "Where were you going, anyway?"

"Well…Connecticut Avenue, a block beyond Du Pont Circle…"

"You're pathetic!"

"That's telling 'im," Tony said in satisfaction.

"You shut up!" Abby and Tim chorused.

Tim was not pleased being in the front seat, where he could easily see the bumper-car journey of the cars and trucks. One man pulled his new-looking BMW over to the curb, parked, and wept. "Have you been driving in DC long?" Tim asked the driver.

"Two months," said the smiling driver in a voice with a musical accent. "Since I come from Ethiopia."

"Two months! Have you ever driven in snow before?"

"No. Today first time. First time I see snow, as well."

Tim blanched. "Aren't you scared?"

"No. I go slow, I pay attention. Other drivers not pay attention. I take you to Du Pont Circle, safe."

And he did. The three passengers handed him money, and went their separate ways.

- - - - -

_Scenario __3_: Abby entered the theatre on 19th Street, enjoying the warmth that melted the flurries on her coat. As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she made out the admissions table. "Hi, my name is Sciuto. I should have a reservation…?"

"Oh, yeah, chicky. You're at table 19. You'll see the numbers on the tables. Show starts in 20."

She absorbed this, giddy with the thought of her date. "Is my, uh, companion here yet? Coleman?" she asked the metal-clad attendant.

He checked the list. "Not yet. Lotsa dudes are late. Weather, maybe."

"Thanks." She took her ticket stub, walked in and found her table. A waitron took her drink order, and she sat down to wait.

- - - - -

_Scenario 1_: The club on New Hampshire Avenue was hopping when Tony entered. Hopping, perhaps, to a smaller degree than it might otherwise on a Friday, given the weather. Tony had no complaints; on a night like this he had no desire to be waiting in a line outside. Tonight there was no line. Everyone was free to come in, get warm, and spend money at the bar.

He wandered the rooms in studied casualness, looking for Madison. Lots of tall, good-looking brunettes wearing next-to-nothing with it only 28 degrees outside, for cryin' out loud, but none were his date. _I am getting too old for the club scene, _he thought, though short of getting married—a terrifying idea—he didn't see many alternatives.

Seeking a quiet nook near the bathrooms, he pulled out his cell phone. "Hi, babe. I'm here; where are you? Stuck on the Metro? Which station?...Well, don't worry; I'll be here when you get here." He hung up and ordered a beer. It sounded like it might take her up to an hour to get there. Oh, well.

- - - - -

_Scenario 2_: Glad the lecture hall was not far from where the cab had dropped them, Tim stopped at the pharmacy next door and bought a container of ibuprofen. His arm hurt unceasingly, though Tim was not sure whether this was intensified by his own general grumpiness at the unsatisfactory day,

The hall was bright and cheery; decked in holiday red ribbons, fake greenery, and thousands of small yellow-white fairy lights. This should be an entertaining talk; Karlov, the speaker, had written two books on physics and computing streaked with wild, off-the-wall humor. Tim had heard him lecture before, and it was a can't-miss talk.

Not date material—unless you had the right date. Ivy, he remembered, loved Karlov as much as he did. This would be fun.

They hadn't discussed _afterwards_ yet, and perhaps he should have brought the subject up. But he figured dinner would be a safe bet; who didn't eat? He knew several good restaurants in the area. Maybe take in a show after that; there were a couple good comedy clubs in the area (_Tony would be shocked to hear that I like stand-up!_). Or not. And then…well, she was staying in a nearby hotel, he knew…

He smiled, even as he knew it probably wouldn't happen.

_Heck, I'__ll__ just be lucky if she shows up here tonight…Don't know what she ever saw in me…_

"Tim!" A loud stage whisper. He looked around, and there she was, standing at a seat in the lecture hall, waving to him. Ivy was a stunning strawberry blonde, a real head-turner. There was no law in nature that said that geeks had to be homely. Trying not too hustle too fast and look too eager, Tim took the seat next to hers.

"You came," he said, unable to take his eyes off that beautiful, lightly-freckled face that used to gladden his heart on those wintry walks across the MIT campus.

"Well, naturally," she smiled, dimples on display. "Karlov and McGee. Who could pass that up?!"


	3. Downturns

**Chapter Three: Downturns**

- - - - -

_Scenario 1_: The bouncers were watching him. Tony could feel their eyes on the back of his head, though every time he turned to see, their expressions were bland and their eyes elsewhere. He knew why: an unaccompanied 30ish man in a club with clientele mostly on the younger side of 20 could be trouble. They would watch whom he spoke to, and if he tried to leave with someone who hadn't approached him first, the bouncers would talk to her; ask where they were going. All in the name of preventing tragedies.

Tony wished he'd suggested a movie or a show instead. But this was what Madison had wanted to do.

It was now an hour since he'd called her. _Where was she?_ He thought about calling again, but didn't want to seem controlling or frantic.

He got another beer and sat at a tiny table where he could watch the music videos on a screen, with no interest at all.

- - - - -

_Scenario 3_: The show had started, and still no Coleman. Abby ordered an appetizer of chicken fingers and another Shirley Temple. She was spurning alcohol tonight, wanting to have all her senses in prime working order when Coleman arrived.

Everything about him was just too nummy for words, but in her mind she put them into words, anyway. Tall, underweight, shaggy brown hair that hid eyes of a color she couldn't determine because they were hidden by hair. _Like a sheepdog,_ she though. _A very skinny one._

The play was really good; something derived, the program said, from an ancestral play of the 1950s Beat generation. Bongo drums accompanied the staccato dialogue at key points. She snapped her fingers enthusiastically along with the few dozen other patrons at the end of the first act.

When the lights, following that act, came up to their usual level of murkiness, a waitron came to her table. "Sciuto? You have a message, from Coleman."

"How sweet," Abby said, love washing over her. "He didn't try to call my phone because he didn't want to spoil the show for the others."

"No, actually, he said he lost your number, so he called here instead. The message is: 'Stuck in Alexandria; roads a mess. Let's reschedule. Love ya, kiss kiss kiss.' " The male waitron wrinkled his nose as if he'd personally taken the kisses.

"Oh, that's so romantic," Abby sighed. "Did he say to call him on his cell?"

The waitron flipped the note over. "It says: 'PS. Going to bed now when I get home, turning off phone. I'll call you. PPS. I changed my phone number.' "

"Well???"

"Well, what?"

"What's the new number???"

"Uh, he didn't, uh…I'm sorry."

Abby fell silent, and waived him away. She'd been stood up.

And worst of all, she probably would have to go elsewhere now for a Theremin.

- - - - -

_Scenario 2:_ Karlov gave an outstanding talk to a roaringly appreciative audience. Of course it was intellectual; those people who didn't know, for example, the various common jokes on Avogadro's number would be left cold. Tim and Ivy laughed until they shook and cried.

It ended too soon. An 80-minute lecture, with a break in the middle, was not nearly enough, and though Karlov did come back for one encore, that was his limit. He invited all his fans to get on his plane with him tomorrow morning and join him on a trip to Atlanta, provided they were willing to pay their own way. Of course.

Tim helped Ivy on with her coat; a luscious blue-purple woolen thing that carried her lilac-tinged cologne. "Have you eaten?"he asked. "I know some really good restaurants here. What do you like? There's Brazilian, Himalayan fusion, steak, Indian…"

He saw she wasn't looking at him, and he stopped. Her eyes were focused on the doorway, and they lit up, as did her smile, when a tall, blond man came in. The man saw her and smiled, tentatively.

"Ivy? Ivy Lange?!"

"Noel!" Leaving Tim, she ran forward and grabbed the man by the hands. "It _is_ you, it _is_! I'm so glad!!"

Ivy dragged the man back to where Tim was standing. "Tim, I don't know if you remember Noel Harley…he was a year ahead of us at MIT…"

"Sure I do," Tim said, feeling his chest go hollow. "You guys were quite the item on campus for awhile. Everyone thought you'd get married once Ivy graduated. What happened with that?"

"I went into the service," said Noel. "It's something everyone in my family does. Four-year commitment, so Ivy and I decided not to get married right then, to see how things went."

"Which branch of the service?"

"Army, of course!"

"Ah."

"Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather when Ivy emailed me to say her company had sent her here for a symposium! I couldn't wait to see her…but I have to work late on Fridays. Thanks so much for bringing her to the lecture, Tim. She's always hated going anywhere alone."

"Yeah. No problem."

"Are you ready to go?" Noel asked Ivy. "I've got reservations at a nice French restaurant. I remember how much you like French." She slipped her arm into his, and they left, eyes only for each other, and certainly not for Tim.

He stood where he was as the remaining lecturer-goers filed out. The pain in his arm was now replaced by a larger one in his heart.

- - - - -

There was a bar in the corner of the building that housed the lecture hall, and Tim went there. He wasn't much of a drinker, but a glass of wine might soothe him. Or something. He only hoped he wouldn't start bawling.

After nursing the glass for over an hour, he left and walked back down Connecticut Avenue for the circle and the Metro. _Maybe they'll have cleared up the congestion by now. All I want to do is go home._

"Tim! Tim! Over here!!"

He turned, joyfully, at first thinking it was Ivy calling him, having come to her senses. But no, it was Abby, goth girl, and with her was Tony, the playboy. _Oh, why?_ he thought, but walked over to them, however grudgingly. _No need to start a feud if I have to be back at work with them in a few days._

"Didn't you get Gibbs' message, Probie? There's a break in the Chambers case, and we're wanted back at NCIS. Now."

Tim reached for his phone, and remembered. "I shut it off when I went into the lecture."

Tony nodded. "Hey, your hot date break up so soon?"

Oddly, Tim perceived no malice in Tony's voice. He sighed. "It was great until her old boyfriend showed up. She used me as a way of getting back to him."

"Ouch," said Tony.

"I should have known. His name is Noel. Noel and Ivy, in December. How can I fight that?"

"You can't," Abby said sympathetically. "That's Fate."

"What about you guys? Where are your dates?"

"We were stood up," Tony said wryly. "At least you got to enjoy your date for a little while."

"Okay, here we go, we're next in line for a cab," said Abby, and they moved forward a bit at the busy cab stand. "We all started out with the wrong idea, I think," she said.

"We should have taken the Metro?"

"No! I mean that we were dating to type. We all assumed that people similar to us had to be nice, kind people just because we had similar interests. See, Tim should have dated Mil—Madison, and—"

"No, not at all your type, Probie!... I take that back. Maybe you'd get along okay."

Tim laughed. "Probably not. I've always hated frat houses and girls who jump out of cakes."

"Wait—you knew about that? And you didn't say anything?"

"Well, it wasn't any of my business."

Tony grinned. "Thanks for that." He gave Tim a guy-punch in the arm…

…and Tim toppled over in agony.

- - - - -

"I can't believe you went out on a date with a possibly broken arm!" Abby said at the hospital emergency room, shortly thereafter.

"I can," said Tony. "Don't be so desperate next time, McGee. Or at least say something to us. We're your friends!"

"It's not a big deal," Tim insisted for the hundredth time. "It's my right arm, and I'm left-handed. I doubt it's even broken."

"Still, what are friends for, if we can't share your pain?"

"You want my pain? You're welcome to it."

The doctor came up. "Good news, Agent McGee. It's a simple fracture of the radius bone. We'll put a cast on it and you should be healed in six weeks."

Gibbs showed up then, looking a mixture of stressed and annoyed. "What do I have to do to see that the three of you stay out of trouble?" he asked.

"Tell her not to date Goths, and him not to date geeks," said Tony. "And don't ask; I'm swearing off the playgirls."

Gibbs ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe none of you should date anyone. Maybe I should find spouses for all of you."

"Oh, would you?" Abby asked, excitedly, not resisting a quick, corner-of-the-eye peek at Tim and Tony.

_"No!"_ Gibbs thundered. "I have enough things to do. Get your cast put on, McGee, and then we're all going back to NCIS."

Even so, he was wondering if his cousin's daughter Stella would be a good match for Di Nozzo.

- END -


End file.
